


In the grip of a killing fist

by antonymmouse (Yakkai)



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Creampie, Doggy Style, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shotgunning, Threesome - M/M/M, nobody asked for this but i wrote it anyway, oh boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 16:11:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16876032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yakkai/pseuds/antonymmouse
Summary: Control is something that Javier does not easily relinquish, but he trusts Dutch, even if he feels he’s being played the fool here. When Javier takes a lover he makes all the decisions. That isn’t to say he’s a selfish partner-- far from it -- but rather those who have the privilege of being with him are told where to touch him and when and how.





	In the grip of a killing fist

The strike of a match illuminates the dim room as Dutch lights his cigar. He takes a few languid puffs and blows a great billow of smoke toward the center of the room, near the bed and its occupants.

Earthy smoke coats Javier's lungs as he inhales in short, bursting pants. It's hard not to look up at Dutch, though he tries, not wanting to give him all the satisfaction of the situation. The creaky wooden chair Dutch is sitting in may as well be a throne for how pleased he looks to be there. His legs are lazily crossed and in between puffs on his cigar there is a smug look on his face. 

Control is something that Javier does not easily relinquish, but he trusts Dutch, even if he feels he’s being played the fool here. When Javier takes a lover he makes all the decisions. That isn’t to say he’s a selfish partner-- far from it -- but rather those who have the privilege of being with him are told where to touch him and when and how. He much prefers to be on top so he can watch the look of reverence on his lover’s face at his beauty, control the speed at which he fucks. He is a man of particularity.

How then, is it, that he is here, pressed face down into the mattress like a shameful dog, gripping fistfuls of sheets as Hosea’s hips meet his rear again and again. The sound of flesh meeting flesh is beautifully obscene, but the gasp each thrust draws from Javier’s lungs is moreso.

“You know, Hosea,” Dutch proclaims, punctuating his point with several stabs of the ashy end of his cigar, “I have never doubted your taste.”

Hosea chuckles a bit, never losing his rhythm or momentum. His bony fingers are wrapped around the curve of Javier’s hip bones, pressing possessively tight to the flesh. Hosea, indeed, is the one who lured him here.

“Yes, he’s rather beautiful,” Hosea declares as he delivers a particularly punishing thrust to Javier. “When he’s not tomcatting around.”

The praise makes Javier’s cock jerk unwittingly. His cock bobs between him and the bed, the tip dragging against the sheets on the occasional thrust, and it’s so good but it’s not enough. Nobody knows Javier and how he enjoys being touched like himself.

As Javier slides his hand down his body to wrap his fingers around his length, he gasps out, “I’m still here,” Not to be talked about as if he wasn’t in the room.

Dutch laughs as he stands up from the chair and brushes the ash off his thighs. His footsteps creak on the floor in approach toward the bed, and Javier lifts his head up to meet Dutch's gaze.

There's heat in Dutch's eyes, but more yet in his words as he says, “You'd never let us forget it, would you? Vain little creature.” He kneels on the bed and grabs Javier's face with one hand, ringed fingers digging into his flushed cheeks. With the other hand, he takes a deep pull of his cigar and leans in to blow the smoke in Javier's face.

Javier's lips part, and he knows he's not supposed to inhale cigar smoke but he takes it all in, ashy and heady and burning in his throat. His whole body tingles with the buzz of nicotine and sex, and his toes tense and curl for lack of any other outlet for the pleasure.

Dutch lets go of his face and gets off the bed, and Javier feels his weight resettle behind them. He cranes his neck to look over his shoulder as best he can and, oh. Dutch is all over Hosea, hands on his chest, running over his nipples, and they’re kissing like ravenous wolves-- nipping and licking as much as kissing. Hosea’s pace in Javier doesn’t slow any despite this attention from his sweetheart, maybe quickens some, and Javier groans as he tightens his grip on himself. The hand he still has tangled in the sheets is starting to go numb at the fingertips, but whether from the position or sensation he couldn’t say. He pulls his hand underneath himself to rake his fingernails over a nipple, pinching it until it hurts, just the way he likes it.

It seems more voyeuristic, more intrusive even than the way Dutch was watching them, but Javier can’t look away. Hosea and Dutch touch with such practice: hands sliding into particular spots, kisses knowing their homes.

Hosea’s thrusts became sharper, shallower, and his breaths become more labored. All the while, Dutch kisses Hosea’s neck, sighing into his ear, “That’s it. Are you gonna come inside him, hmm?”

Javier wanted to say: no, never, I don’t let anybody do that. But what he says, as he shoves his face back into the mattress is, “Yes, do it.”

So Hosea does, buries himself all the way into Javier and spends himself inside as Dutch kisses the groan off his lips. The warmth fills Javier, and as Hosea pulls out of him, it drips down the back of his thighs, wet and hot. Javier quickens his hand, and he feels his muscles tensing, orgasm building until it he cannot resist it anymore and he comes in bursts on his hand and on the sheet beneath him.

Javier rolls onto his side, away from the wet spot, and tries to ignore the feeling of Hosea’s come leaking out of him. His loose hair is sweat-soaked and plastered every which-way to his face and neck, and he’s still breathing in heaves. When he looks up, both Dutch and Hosea are looking at him, each with a different smirk on their face. Dutch looks like the cat that got the cream, altogether pleased with himself. There is wisdom behind Hosea’s smirk, like he taught Javier some kind of lesson, here.

As they dress Hosea offers him a cigarette and says, “It was a pleasure, Mr. Escuella.”

Dutch claps him on the shoulder and suggests, “Maybe we’ll call on you again, sometime.”

Like he wouldn’t see them around camp. Like he wouldn’t look them in the eyes and know the taste of Hosea’s cock, know all the sweet pet names Dutch calls his companion while he’s fucking somebody else.

Javier should tell them to forget it. But what he says is,

“Sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> g;sdkjg;s IM SORRY THIS IS BLATANTLY SELF INDULGENT


End file.
